#tiantii

orojira + longing ( @tiantii​ ) ;

          the hardest part was over – jiraiya thought with a relieved sigh – getting inside the bloody mist was hard enough as it was, foreigners weren’t exactly welcomed there even if allegedly from a royal clan. the village watch wasn’t even trying to hide themselves – anyone could see various shinobi around the village, in the midst of the crowded streets, just…watching…much like hawks.

          he doubted the petty crime rate in kiri was high, for some unearthly reason jiraiya just felt like killing a peer was no issue for these shinobi.

          his smile falters ever so slightly, but ( hopefully ) before orochimaru can see it, jiraiya leads them to the shops in an excited fashion. a natural big spender, perhaps due to poverty as a child, jiraiya genuinely took great pleasure in spending money and buying beautiful shiny things, so it comes as no surprise when he finds himself with a ridiculous amount of bags full of trinkets they’ve bought.

          making it his mission to let orochimaru at ease, jiraiya tried his best to brighten up the mood and, soon enough, he even sort of looked genuinely having fun – careless to the point of asking information to one of the guards in an obnoxious  and distracted way, as if he forgot this was a mission and they were not, in fact, married and in a honeymoon trip.

          he hadn’t forgotten – but in order to fly under the radar, they needed to be seen and known. nobody suspects very public figures, not at first. building their newfound fame wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be – tipping ridiculously large amounts of money gave them the status of good, welcomed, clients, and such gossip spread fast like wildfire.

          he was checking one of their many bags when he felt orochimaru tense up slightly and watched him from the corner of his eye before resuming what he had been doing and leaning closer to hear his ‘wife’.

          ‘ yes, my love ? ’  he arched an eyebrow, curious. terms of endearment came easily to him, even if he did feel slight anxious to use them with orochimaru who – as far as jiraiya knew – had no habit of such. the sage focused on their surroundings, trying to pinpoint what had made ororchimaru stop, till he felt a strong chakra signature that made the hairs behind his neck fly up. ‘ ah, yes – of course ! let’s see what they have ! with some luck we’ll find something for the festival…’

          the kanamara matsuri – one of the few festivals celebrated in the hidden mist – was some sort of fertility festival that was celebrated every year. it was said to hold dances and good food, as well as collective prayers for couples to conceive children and have harmonious families but jiraiya knew that this was only what a vacation folder would say. in reality, it was a festival mainly rooted in the red light district where people in power indulged themselves in pleasures, food and alcohol perhaps too much.

          he figured it would be good to meet their target, the water daimyo’s cousin, there – by accident and in an informal setting, to form some sort of friendship with him so they could keep an eye on him and get the information they needed.

          entering the shop, jiraiya could feel that the figure that was already there had a concerning level of chakra and instinctively placed himself in front of orochimaru, giving him a side glance and a smile.

          ‘ it’s alright, dear. i’ll see what they have, let me know if you like anything…’ he smiled before heading towards the owner of the shop.

          there was no earthly way that that individual was the owner. it was a tall man, taller than jiraiya ( surprisingly enough ), bulky and visibly scarred. he was older, graying hair and beard hiding some of his scars. to anyone unaware, he’d probably looking like a friendly old shop keeper, however jiraiya knew better than to let his guard down, considering how alert and fast the old man moved. a retired shinobi ?

          ‘ hello there ! i am kiyomizu namihei and this is my lovely wife nian zhen – we are here on our honeymoon for the fertility festival...’    he started with a tone that was a close copy to the austere and royal like tone tobirama senju had carried while alive. a voice of someone who was used to command and was above others. it felt uncomfortable, but jiraiya had spent enough time in his youth with clan leaders to know better than to falter.  ‘ your shop has called the attention of my lady wife, i do hope you can provide us some kimonos to match her beauty…well – both of us, really. i too could also use new clothes. ’  he finished motioning to his dark moss yukata and grey haori.

        ‘ hmnn...finally ! i thought you were never coming to bed... ’  the sage groaned low, his body fighting him when he woke up. for such a heavy sleeper, jiraiya sure as hell woke up quick when he heard orochimaru coming back. shirtless, as per usual because he was naturally warm, the white haired sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy look on his face.  

“I like this, being so close to you.” Orochimaru mumbled, husky voice coated with sleep and softness only love could bring. For the first time in months they had had some time for themselves, nothing to worry about or fight against, and so he found himself there — lying on Sakumo’s chest, skin to skin, enjoying the other’s warmth and heartbeat. A dainty finger traced nonsensical patters over the expanse of Sakumo’s chest, not a care in the world for the first time since they left Konoha. “I finally feel at home. Here with you, this, this is home.” The dark-haired male sighed happily, hoisting himself up a bit so he could place a gentle kiss to Sakumo’s lips — reverent, delighted, completely in love with Hatake Sakumo.

perhaps this is what a normal life would be like. lying pressed against the man he loves on a lazy sunday morning, light leaking in through the blinds, painting pale skin in shades of gold. watching orochimaru rest on his chest, rising and falling with every breath. warm bodies connected, hands carding through his lover’s long, silky hair. heavenly, he thinks. like he’s died and gone to heaven.

but sakumo hasn’t needed to die to achieve such peace, and perhaps that is the most wonderful thing of all. they’d managed to shed the skin of a life of senseless war and meaningless death ( and he catches himself thinking in serpentine metaphors, and he laughs. orochimaru’s influence invades even his thoughts ), in order to truly live, elsewhere, else-wise. their escape, a gift that keeps on giving. a life of normalcy, of a promised future for their young, of days full of sweet words and soft touches.

“are you warm enough, darling?” always a worrier, sakumo tugs lightly on the blanket to draw it up over orochimaru’s bare shoulders. cold-blooded as he is, he clings to sakumo’s warmth like bathing in the sun. but he won’t ever let the snake feel cold again, not while his arms and their bed lay waiting to wrap him up. not while his heart burns for him so strongly, so perpetually. there will always be a fire in their hearth. there will always be a warm, happy home for him to return to. he’ll make sure of it.

sakumo makes a quiet, contented sound, voice rough with sleep in return. “and what a beautiful home we’ve made together.” does he mean the village? or the self-contained world of their bodies and lives, intertwined? it hardly matters; it is all one in the same in sakumo’s eyes. he returns orochimaru’s kiss, lazy and sweet, smiles against his lips. when he pulls away, he doesn’t go far, rests his forehead against the side of orochimaru’s face. speaks, almost humming, so the words vibrate against his cheek. close. i want to be close to you always. my love, my home. oh, how hopelessly romantic old age has made him.

@tiantii

He watches as the person... or what used to be a person thrash and claw at the glass of their container till they couldn't struggle anymore and their claw-like appendages float down to their side and their head hangs. The sounds of the monitor letting out that familiar one tone beep, letting them know that the test subject was no longer alive anymore. It would be pointless to revive them at their state as their body would not stand the curse mark's deadly side effects on them, even with drugs or alterations.

Another failure unfortunately. But for Kabuto, another headache as like always. He has to be the one to deal with cleanup.

"It's unfortunate that this one failed the final stages of the curse, you even were generous enough to put them inside the tank with all of the beneficial medicine available to help them survive, but they still died. regardless."

"A privilege that not even Sasuke had."

He turns off the light of the tank as he turns to Orochimaru, at least trying to lighten up the mood with his reassuring tone, "Perhaps we should learn from this more and perhaps we should do more tests and observations before placing your gift upon them. But knowing you, I don't blame you for getting impatient at times."

“You look cozy…” Orochimaru’s husky voice made itself heard as he walked into the room, golden eyes shining beautifully as they took in the sight of the man he loved and his - their - son, cuddling away, basking under the light of the setting sun. He walked up to them, leaning over to place a soft kiss against the crown of Sakumo’s head, one hand gently running its fingers through Kakashi’s hair. He had missed them so much. “Do you mind if I join in?” he asked, a shy smile taking over his face as he peered down at the older man.

when orochimaru is away, sakumo is unsettled. he's so used to them acting as a unit now ( and it surprises him, how a lone wolf like him still knows how to crave partnership and closeness, after all this time ) that the village, and certainly their home, feels emptier without the other. sakumo is responsible, never one to shirk his duties, and he spends more time patrolling the streets than usual, an anxious flutter in his chest, a steadfast determination that nothing will harm this most precious thing of orochimaru's while he is abroad.

kakashi can sense his dis-ease, he suspects, the way the child is clingier and more agitated. at night, he'll only sleep curled up against his father's side. sakumo is thankful, oddly, for the distraction and dotes on kakashi all he can to pass the time for them both ( he feels a little guilty that he can't hide his emotions better. the last thing he's ever wanted was to upset his son ).

when orochimaru returns, when he enters the house, sakumo knows instantly, feels the pull of familiar chakra. he smiles, but doesn't rise to greet him. kakashi had wanted to stay up and wait for orochimaru's return, but as the evening light fades, exhaustion overtakes his small body and he lays on sakumo's chest now, in that place between resting and wakefulness. he can't risk jostling the child who is finally close to sleep, after a week of fussiness and agitation. instead, he waits long moments for orochimaru to reach their room. and he's beautiful as he crosses the threshold ( and so wonderfully alive, a quiet, relieved part of him says ).

there is something so precious about being touched gently by such a frightfully powerful shinobi. before he replies, sakumo shifts slightly, cranes his neck upwards to reach orochimaru's lips. a proper greeting between lovers.

"please. we've missed you." his voice is quiet, and he gestures to kakashi against his chest, barely awake but not quite settled. sakumo drops his voice further, hopes the rumble of it doesn't cause the boy to stir. "he wanted to stay up and see you, but you know how he gets." this isn't the first time orochimaru has been away, and it isn't the first time kakashi has become restless in his absence ( like father like son ). "he's tired himself out, i think. but he'll be so happy to see you in the morning."

sentence starters  –  still accepting!

He could think of plenty that would upset the Sage if spoken out loud, which is why he mostly kept it to himself – that and the fact that Kimimaro knew he wasn't allowed to think at all, not about those matters. At least, not after everything Orochimaru-sama has done for him, all the purpose freely given to his otherwise useless existence. If he's incapable of playing his part, what was the point of all the time invested in him? It didn't matter that he didn't particularly like the Sound Four, that he thought of them as a waste of air – he would do it because Orochimaru-sama knew better. It didn't matter that he still didn't trust Kabuto even after the genjutsu had been released – Orochimaru-sama knew what he was doing or how to handle things should they not work out. What matters is his deteriorating health and how he could no longer hide it from his master. The blood he coughed up this morning that stained his sheets and hands matter – if inspected closely, one could still see red tainting the cuticles in his left hand. Nevertheless, he owed the Sage everything he had to offer, even the truth that could set them back a few years on their goal – Orochimaru-sama's new and perfected vessel, now falling apart. “ Orochimaru-sama, I haven't been feeling well since... ”    Kimimaro clutched at his chest, hand resting carefully on top of his cursed seal – shaking as if the mere implication that he was ungrateful for anything that he's received would lead to the inevitable combustion of his already weakened body. He sighed, closing his eyes and bowing his head – he was on his knees.    “ It appears my own body is betraying me, Master. What should I do? ”